Show: Sex and the City - 4x16
Every morning, New Yorkers leave their crowded apartments and head out to the crowded streets on their way to work.
Today, I was one of them.
Sometimes a girl needs a new start.
I had a new do, a new mortgage, and therefore a new job.
I had just submitted my first article for one of today's most relevant and provocative magazines, at least to me: "Vogue".
Also known as Mecca, where I belong.
This isn't "Vogue".
You didn't like it?
No one is saying that.
I am.
I didn't like it.
What Enid is trying to say is that you wrote a wonderful first draft.
That isn't "Vogue".
The article I'd put my heart and soul into was bleeding.
Your spin on the idea is clever.
Different types of men as the new accessories for fall. "
A Prada dress should always be worn with an investment banker."
That's wonderful.
The assignment was 500 words on accessories, not men.
I'm not convinced she knows anything about purses or men.
Enid, for the love of God...
What you've handed us is just your newspaper column with the word "style" where the word "sex" used to be.
We don't want "Vogue" according to your agenda.
No one cares.
I don't care about your agenda.
I care about designers.
Oscar de la Renta, Chanel, Dior.
I want less Carrie Bradshaw and more: "carry this bag with these shoes".
You're a writer.
Write this down.
I was trying to introduce the bags and bracelets with a little humour.
Kind of, men are the new black.
It was supposed to be funny.
It was supposed to be bags.
I didn't really bring a writing implement.
OK, bags.
An hour later, Enid had to leave for a lunch date, presumably to devour another writer.
Don't let Enid get to you.
She just came back from Paris.
Apparently humour is out this season.
Billie Holiday.
The only woman in more pain than you right now.
Come on, Cookie.
Chin up.
In publishing you need two things: a tough hide and a dry Martini.
Martinis in the morning.
Is this allowed?
Is it "Vogue"?
Only in emergencies.
The last time I did this was when I heard that fun fur was making a comeback.
Look at this mess.
Why was I even hired?
You have me to blame for that.
My daughter introduced me to your column.
I thought you'd be a natural at "Vogue".
I guess you thought wrong.
Haven't been wrong yet. "
Vogue" is all about vision and you have got vision.
We have to hide your vision from Enid's.
A little less you, a little more purse.
Come on.
Drink.
Cheers.
One and a half Martinis later.
The sad thing is, this is what I do best.
Look at it!
Cookie, you're drunk.
Yeah, Cookie's drunk.
I'm drunk at "Vogue".
How can you get so drunk on one and a half Martinis?
I didn't eat breakfast and I'm a size two.
Perfect for "Vogue".
But no.
I'm drunk and a failure at "Vogue".
I feel awful.
This is my fault.
I came in here today so cocky.
I thought I knew it all.
I had my man jokes and my purse puns.
You heard her.
What do I know about purses?
Nothing.
What do I know about men?
I spilled.
I spilled at "Vogue".
Maybe we'd better just take you home.
I can't go out there.
I'm drunk.
I'm drunk at "Vogue"!
Left, right, left.
Look at me.
Pretend I'm saying something fantastic about corsets.
Tell me that wasn't Anna Wintour.
It wasn't.
Left, right.
Left.
Left...
I'm so sorry.
That night, at a more appropriate cocktail hour...
There must be something you want for your birthday.
What I want is not to celebrate it.
What if I want to celebrate it?
That would be enough.
I have everything I need.
It's not about needing.
It's about wanting something for fun.
Something decadent, naughty even.
May I tempt you with dessert?
How is everything?
Delicious, thank you.
Alexa.
I pre-ordered our chocolate souffl� if you're in the mood for something sweet.
Thank you for keeping an eye on us.
I couldn't help it.
You're the most attractive couple here.
I know what I'd like for my birthday.
A championship fuck fest with you.
Then consider your candles blown.
And Alexa.
You asked.
Is a three-way with a 21-year-old a bad birthday idea?
And a four-way next year?
He'll cheat with me or without me.
Happy birthday to you!
He didn't ask for a hooker.
These are the options?
At least I'm part of the fantasy.
The fantasy being he is attractive to someone who could be his daughter.
He is, that's the problem.
Richard's in his prime.
Men get better looking as they get older.
Women get...
Three-ways, apparently.
Or a Marc Jacobs little notebook.
Evidently, I'm recommending it to "Vogue" shoppers.
Just be careful.
If a man has a fantasy and you fulfil it, the relationship could blow up.
Then you're the idiot who did it with him on the golf course.
Was that you and Trey?
It's a "for instance".
Sorry I'm late.
I was shopping for a stroller.
I should be doing the things I have to do before the baby comes and I'm unable to leave my apartment.
Like jujitsu and off-track betting?
Like buying a crib.
Evidently I'm to go to "Crib World". "
Crib City" wasn't big enough.
Why isn't there a store called "This Is The Crib For You"?
They deliver it and help you raise your child.
You don't have a crib yet?
No, Charlotte.
I have a job instead.
When am I supposed to find time to prepare for this baby?
I don't have a vague idea.
I don't have a "Vogue" idea.
What about old One Ball?
I tried that.
He starts acting all father figure, I get territorial.
It's too complicated for "Crib World".
Let me help you.
It's not too late to have a baby shower.
I hate baby showers.
The games, the finger sandwiches, the oohing and aahing.
I don't ooh and aah.
Think of the gifts.
It would be a great way to get all the stuff you need.
Who would I invite?
Anyone who invited you to theirs.
It's your shower.
You can invite whoever you choose.
You want to throw me a baby shower after all you've been through?
I think it would be good for me.
OK, but no cutesy storky shit.
Just a dignified lunch with presents, which I will open after everyone leaves.
You have to open the presents.
No opening of presents, no games, no crustless bread.
I want fried chicken.
It's not Super Bowl Sunday!
It's my shower and I'll fry if I want to.
What shall we do for our gift?
Stick to the registry, Three-way.
Charlotte decided that if she was going to host a baby shower, she should hide the evidence that she had wanted one of her own.
Later that week, I had a meal with the perfect dinner accessory: Julian.
My wife is a former dancer.
The first time I saw her on stage, I fell in love with her.
She pli�ed and I plotzed.
24 years next September.
You got married after grade school.
I knew there was something about you I liked.
Is there a man in your life?
Is it a great love?
I just broke up with somebody.
Yes, it was a great love.
But he went there and I went there.
And there you have it.
Julian, the reason that I asked you to dinner tonight...
You knew I'd pay?
Besides that.
I really appreciate your interest in my article, but I've decided not to finish it.
You're just going to quit?
I don't let my kids quit.
I'm not one of your kids.
I'm a girl you get drunk sometimes.
Forget about me.
What would your father say about you quitting?
He wouldn't have a lot to say.
He quit my mother and me when I was little.
I mean a long time ago.
I was five.
Why did he leave?
No idea.
Never said.
And that's the name of that tune.
What?
It's interesting.
Your father leaves without any answers and you spend your life asking questions about men.
It's 20 years of analysis.
Forgive me? "
Vogue".
What if I could fix it so that you only deal with me and Enid spends less time hating your writing?
Cookie, you're no quitter.
We get to work on this together.
Why are you being so sweet?
Martini guilt.
Later that night, I got to thinking about fathers, or the lack of them.
A daughter's relationship with her father is the model for all her relationships with men.
Is that pop psychology or is there some truth to it?
Does an imperfect model mean a life of imperfect relationships?
I couldn't help wonder: how much does a father-figure figure?
I understand your concern, but I'm looking at the contract right now...
Could you hold for a moment?
I'm on a conference call.
Charlotte York says it's an emergency.
What's wrong?
You OK?
I'm fine.
You forgot to include a Manhattan Whoozit in your registry.
A learning toy.
Active toys make for passive children.
I don't have time.
I'm on a conference call.
What about a Peek A Ball?
I have to get back.
I saw a gorgeous centrepiece in the shape of a stork.
I'm at work!
We have to order it by noon.
Its feathers are white Fiji Mum.
What did I say?
No storks, but these people will want to see a baby.
No storks, no present opening, no cutesy stuff.
We agreed.
What about a marzipan baby carriage?
It has a chocolate baby inside.
You can eat the baby.
The next day, Samantha made a conference call of her own.
Will Mr Wright be joining you for lunch?
No.
It's Richard's birthday this weekend.
I'm organising a celebration for him.
Would you like to reserve one of our banquet rooms?
That won't be necessary.
It's a small party.
A very small private party of three.
Just Richard, myself and a third.
If you have any openings.
I'm wide open.
Lucky me.
Now that Charlotte's house was ready for the shower, she wanted to make sure Miranda's was ready for the baby.
The bassinet can go by the bed, so he's right there for feedings.
Unless you have him in bed with you.
Can't I go to jail for that?
Many cultures believe it's safer for the baby's breathing, although you risk rolling over and smooshing him in your sleep, but that almost never happens...
I'll just put him in the thing.
The bassinet?
Great!
When he's big enough, you can put the crib here.
Is that what you were thinking?
I hadn't thought about it.
You need to start thinking about these things before the baby gets here.
What kind of mother do you want to be?
I plan to be a good mother.
A marsupial mom or a stroller mom?
Will you be breast-feeding or bottle-feeding?
And with all the sharp edges around here, this place is a death trap.
You need to back off.
I'm just trying to help.
Pointing out the things I do badly?
I'm not...
Yes, you are.
You need to try to let other people in a little.
Once you have that baby, you're not going to be able to control everything.
I just want to enjoy the fried chicken and be done with it.
I had to rethink the fried chicken.
You were the only one who wanted it.
We're having masculine greens and a lovely puttanesca with a Fiji Mum centrepiece.
A Fiji Mum stork centrepiece?
You can deal with one stork!
Two storks!
There's a stork on the invitation.
That is a duck.
It's smoking a boy cigar.
The duck's not for children.
The duck is fucked.
This shower is fucked!
You can't have one without baby stuff!
Or a shower without a mommy!
Fine!
Fine!
You'd better show up.
I'm not getting stuck with a bunch of lawyers who don't appreciate a beautiful puttanesca!
Watch out for the sharp edges!
Thanks for coming down.
I didn't have a choice.
You couldn't make it up the stairs.
There.
Do you feel better?
The back, yes.
The other stuff, no.
I'm going to be a terrible mother.
I am!
I have no maternal instincts.
I yelled at Charlotte.
She was just pointing out what needed to be child-proofed.
Oh, my God!
I need to be child-proofed.
You want to quit?
I'll quit the magazine, you quit the baby.
Two quitters.
We'll live happily ever after.
Can I tell you a secret?
You're not really pregnant?
I dropped my niece on her head.
I was baby-sitting when I was 13 and I got bored.
I was doing my homework, she slid down the couch.
Two stitches.
Get off my stoop!
How is this kid ever going to make it?
A Type-A mother who works 50 hours a week, no father figure.
He has a father figure.
Steve.
I meant you.
Really?
I do like those Yankees!
Second date.
Dinner and a movie.
I hate them.
Do you think it can be as simple as: "my father walked out, "therefore I'll always be messed up about men"?
My father came home every night.
I have no clue about men, either.
So it's a crap shoot.
Do I have to go to my own baby shower?
I RSVPed to a duck with a cigar.
You're going.
I've got to catch a cab.
Let me get you a forklift.
Are you ready?
Go.
Good girl.
Goody girl.
You too.
The next day, Miranda decided not to dock her own shower.
You showed up!
Bring on the ladies in hats and let's get this over with.
Where are all the storks?
You said you didn't want any.
I know, but...
What did you do?
It's your shower.
Can you get that?
I have to get the sandwiches, which have crusts.
Nothing cute.
No ridiculous baby stuff allowed.
Aren't you supposed to be on a lily pad, being worshipped?
What is that?
It's a four-tiered baby cake made entirely of diapers.
We ordered it online.
What do I do with it?
Didn't you want one?
No.
We're not taking it back.
We've been seen carrying it.
Definitely not "Vogue".
Charlotte said it was the perfect gift.
We should have got a massage.
One hour, two platters of chicken and 13 lawyers later, all talk had turned to babies.
Almost all.
I have 21 years of experience.
I could fuck her under the table.
In a three-way situation, it could come to that.
I have tricks she's never seen.
And those tricks aren't for kids.
She's just renting him.
I own.
Exactly.
Although I don't really own.
It's an illegal sublet thing?
It's a breast pump.
I didn't want you borrowing mine.
I have to pee.
Here.
You take Charles.
Have fun, Mom!
Keep it coming, ladies.
Keep the presents coming.
Yeah?
Nothing.
Something tells me this one's Tiffany.
That's from me.
That is elegant.
That's exactly like the rattle Trey gave me when we first...
You OK?
I'm fine.
I'm sorry, everybody.
Excuse me.
What did I do?
I need to be alone right now.
Except you've got 20 people in the other room.
I'm sorry I ruined your shower.
You didn't.
There wouldn't be a shower to ruin if it weren't for you.
I know this is hard.
I really appreciate you trying to be OK with me having this baby because I need you.
Let's face it.
You're the only person in my life...
...who knows how important it is to have a cake made of diapers.
There's lotion in there too.
And baby bottles.
And a receiving blanket.
See?
I would never have known that.
You would have figured it out.
Just like that, Miranda realised she might be a good mother figure as well.
Somebody better check on Mommy because little Fitz has wet himself.
And myself, I might add.
I happen to have four tiers of diapers.
Can we cut the cake?
I have a three-way to go to.
That's my earring.
That night at the three-way, Samantha made sure it happened her way.
Just so we're clear, tonight is about sex, not love.
There will be no kissing on the mouth.
Richard's lips are off-limits to anyone but me.
What if he kisses me?
Who's up for champagne?
I'm up for anything.
Easy, Sam.
There's more than enough of me to go around.
Tell her, Daddy.
The one thing Richard didn't want for his birthday was to feel older.
Get rid of her.
I'm on it.
It was time for the fledgling to leave the love nest.
Anything else you want for your birthday?
No, this is great.
Just you and me.
What about my three-way?
I have a bus boy arriving at midnight.
Seriously, let's try this.
Just you and me, nobody else.
OK.
By giving Richard what he wanted, Samantha finally got what she needed: monogamy.
The following night, with help from my favourite editor, I finished the impossible: my first "Vogue" piece.
Now my favourite part of the writing process: print.
Congratulations, Cookie.
500 beautifully written words, some even include the Carrie Bradshaw agenda, cleverly hidden.
It's a literary "Where's Waldo?"
When I finish a piece, I open a bottle of Ch�teau La Tour.
How do you celebrate?
By buying shoes and purses.
In that case, have you ever heard of the "Vogue" accessories closet?
Oh, my God!
It's too good!
I'm sorry, but it's...
It's too good!
Like a kid in a couture candy store.
This is too much!
How can this be?
Designers send us things and we photograph them.
Oh, my God!
Do you know what these are?
We're not supposed to be in here.
Manolo Blahnik Mary Janes!
I thought these were an urban shoe myth.
If you'll excuse me, I'll be pillaging the men's side.
Oh, my God!
These are authentic patent leather.
If they don't fit, so help me, I'm going to wear them anyway.
They almost fit.
Tell me what you think about these Versaces.
What do you think?
What are you doing?
I'm just showing you these briefs.
Well, don't.
Julian, pull your pants up.
Look at you in those Mary Janes!
Stop!
What happened to your wife, the dancer?
She's having an affair with her chiropractor.
I find you adorable.
You could be my father.
Would your father wear Versaces?
Pull your pants up!
All right, but as someone who cares about you, you have serious issues with men.
I do right now, yes!
An older man can help with those father issues, Cookie.
Don't Cookie me, Freud.
Pants up.
Show some respect.
This is "Vogue"!
It turns out Julian had an agenda as well.
Cleverly hidden, of course.
From then on, once a month when I went to "Vogue", I thought it best to work exclusively with Enid.
This shows improvement, but still reeks of you.
This magazine doesn't care what you say about shoes.
What do you know about shoes?
Enid, with all due respect, men I may not know, but shoes...
...shoes, I know.
I'm walking.
I'm walking, too.
It's tempting to wish for the perfect boss, the perfect parent or the perfect outfit, but maybe the best we can do is not quit, play the hand we've been given and accessorise the outfit we've got.
Today, I was one of them.
Sometimes a girl needs a new start.
I had a new do, a new mortgage, and therefore a new job.
I had just submitted my first article for one of today's most relevant and provocative magazines, at least to me: "Vogue".
Also known as Mecca, where I belong.
This isn't "Vogue".
You didn't like it?
No one is saying that.
I am.
I didn't like it.
What Enid is trying to say is that you wrote a wonderful first draft.
That isn't "Vogue".
The article I'd put my heart and soul into was bleeding.
Your spin on the idea is clever.
Different types of men as the new accessories for fall. "
A Prada dress should always be worn with an investment banker."
That's wonderful.
The assignment was 500 words on accessories, not men.
I'm not convinced she knows anything about purses or men.
Enid, for the love of God...
What you've handed us is just your newspaper column with the word "style" where the word "sex" used to be.
We don't want "Vogue" according to your agenda.
No one cares.
I don't care about your agenda.
I care about designers.
Oscar de la Renta, Chanel, Dior.
I want less Carrie Bradshaw and more: "carry this bag with these shoes".
You're a writer.
Write this down.
I was trying to introduce the bags and bracelets with a little humour.
Kind of, men are the new black.
It was supposed to be funny.
It was supposed to be bags.
I didn't really bring a writing implement.
OK, bags.
An hour later, Enid had to leave for a lunch date, presumably to devour another writer.
Don't let Enid get to you.
She just came back from Paris.
Apparently humour is out this season.
Billie Holiday.
The only woman in more pain than you right now.
Come on, Cookie.
Chin up.
In publishing you need two things: a tough hide and a dry Martini.
Martinis in the morning.
Is this allowed?
Is it "Vogue"?
Only in emergencies.
The last time I did this was when I heard that fun fur was making a comeback.
Look at this mess.
Why was I even hired?
You have me to blame for that.
My daughter introduced me to your column.
I thought you'd be a natural at "Vogue".
I guess you thought wrong.
Haven't been wrong yet. "
Vogue" is all about vision and you have got vision.
We have to hide your vision from Enid's.
A little less you, a little more purse.
Come on.
Drink.
Cheers.
One and a half Martinis later.
The sad thing is, this is what I do best.
Look at it!
Cookie, you're drunk.
Yeah, Cookie's drunk.
I'm drunk at "Vogue".
How can you get so drunk on one and a half Martinis?
I didn't eat breakfast and I'm a size two.
Perfect for "Vogue".
But no.
I'm drunk and a failure at "Vogue".
I feel awful.
This is my fault.
I came in here today so cocky.
I thought I knew it all.
I had my man jokes and my purse puns.
You heard her.
What do I know about purses?
Nothing.
What do I know about men?
I spilled.
I spilled at "Vogue".
Maybe we'd better just take you home.
I can't go out there.
I'm drunk.
I'm drunk at "Vogue"!
Left, right, left.
Look at me.
Pretend I'm saying something fantastic about corsets.
Tell me that wasn't Anna Wintour.
It wasn't.
Left, right.
Left.
Left...
I'm so sorry.
That night, at a more appropriate cocktail hour...
There must be something you want for your birthday.
What I want is not to celebrate it.
What if I want to celebrate it?
That would be enough.
I have everything I need.
It's not about needing.
It's about wanting something for fun.
Something decadent, naughty even.
May I tempt you with dessert?
How is everything?
Delicious, thank you.
Alexa.
I pre-ordered our chocolate souffl� if you're in the mood for something sweet.
Thank you for keeping an eye on us.
I couldn't help it.
You're the most attractive couple here.
I know what I'd like for my birthday.
A championship fuck fest with you.
Then consider your candles blown.
And Alexa.
You asked.
Is a three-way with a 21-year-old a bad birthday idea?
And a four-way next year?
He'll cheat with me or without me.
Happy birthday to you!
He didn't ask for a hooker.
These are the options?
At least I'm part of the fantasy.
The fantasy being he is attractive to someone who could be his daughter.
He is, that's the problem.
Richard's in his prime.
Men get better looking as they get older.
Women get...
Three-ways, apparently.
Or a Marc Jacobs little notebook.
Evidently, I'm recommending it to "Vogue" shoppers.
Just be careful.
If a man has a fantasy and you fulfil it, the relationship could blow up.
Then you're the idiot who did it with him on the golf course.
Was that you and Trey?
It's a "for instance".
Sorry I'm late.
I was shopping for a stroller.
I should be doing the things I have to do before the baby comes and I'm unable to leave my apartment.
Like jujitsu and off-track betting?
Like buying a crib.
Evidently I'm to go to "Crib World". "
Crib City" wasn't big enough.
Why isn't there a store called "This Is The Crib For You"?
They deliver it and help you raise your child.
You don't have a crib yet?
No, Charlotte.
I have a job instead.
When am I supposed to find time to prepare for this baby?
I don't have a vague idea.
I don't have a "Vogue" idea.
What about old One Ball?
I tried that.
He starts acting all father figure, I get territorial.
It's too complicated for "Crib World".
Let me help you.
It's not too late to have a baby shower.
I hate baby showers.
The games, the finger sandwiches, the oohing and aahing.
I don't ooh and aah.
Think of the gifts.
It would be a great way to get all the stuff you need.
Who would I invite?
Anyone who invited you to theirs.
It's your shower.
You can invite whoever you choose.
You want to throw me a baby shower after all you've been through?
I think it would be good for me.
OK, but no cutesy storky shit.
Just a dignified lunch with presents, which I will open after everyone leaves.
You have to open the presents.
No opening of presents, no games, no crustless bread.
I want fried chicken.
It's not Super Bowl Sunday!
It's my shower and I'll fry if I want to.
What shall we do for our gift?
Stick to the registry, Three-way.
Charlotte decided that if she was going to host a baby shower, she should hide the evidence that she had wanted one of her own.
Later that week, I had a meal with the perfect dinner accessory: Julian.
My wife is a former dancer.
The first time I saw her on stage, I fell in love with her.
She pli�ed and I plotzed.
24 years next September.
You got married after grade school.
I knew there was something about you I liked.
Is there a man in your life?
Is it a great love?
I just broke up with somebody.
Yes, it was a great love.
But he went there and I went there.
And there you have it.
Julian, the reason that I asked you to dinner tonight...
You knew I'd pay?
Besides that.
I really appreciate your interest in my article, but I've decided not to finish it.
You're just going to quit?
I don't let my kids quit.
I'm not one of your kids.
I'm a girl you get drunk sometimes.
Forget about me.
What would your father say about you quitting?
He wouldn't have a lot to say.
He quit my mother and me when I was little.
I mean a long time ago.
I was five.
Why did he leave?
No idea.
Never said.
And that's the name of that tune.
What?
It's interesting.
Your father leaves without any answers and you spend your life asking questions about men.
It's 20 years of analysis.
Forgive me? "
Vogue".
What if I could fix it so that you only deal with me and Enid spends less time hating your writing?
Cookie, you're no quitter.
We get to work on this together.
Why are you being so sweet?
Martini guilt.
Later that night, I got to thinking about fathers, or the lack of them.
A daughter's relationship with her father is the model for all her relationships with men.
Is that pop psychology or is there some truth to it?
Does an imperfect model mean a life of imperfect relationships?
I couldn't help wonder: how much does a father-figure figure?
I understand your concern, but I'm looking at the contract right now...
Could you hold for a moment?
I'm on a conference call.
Charlotte York says it's an emergency.
What's wrong?
You OK?
I'm fine.
You forgot to include a Manhattan Whoozit in your registry.
A learning toy.
Active toys make for passive children.
I don't have time.
I'm on a conference call.
What about a Peek A Ball?
I have to get back.
I saw a gorgeous centrepiece in the shape of a stork.
I'm at work!
We have to order it by noon.
Its feathers are white Fiji Mum.
What did I say?
No storks, but these people will want to see a baby.
No storks, no present opening, no cutesy stuff.
We agreed.
What about a marzipan baby carriage?
It has a chocolate baby inside.
You can eat the baby.
The next day, Samantha made a conference call of her own.
Will Mr Wright be joining you for lunch?
No.
It's Richard's birthday this weekend.
I'm organising a celebration for him.
Would you like to reserve one of our banquet rooms?
That won't be necessary.
It's a small party.
A very small private party of three.
Just Richard, myself and a third.
If you have any openings.
I'm wide open.
Lucky me.
Now that Charlotte's house was ready for the shower, she wanted to make sure Miranda's was ready for the baby.
The bassinet can go by the bed, so he's right there for feedings.
Unless you have him in bed with you.
Can't I go to jail for that?
Many cultures believe it's safer for the baby's breathing, although you risk rolling over and smooshing him in your sleep, but that almost never happens...
I'll just put him in the thing.
The bassinet?
Great!
When he's big enough, you can put the crib here.
Is that what you were thinking?
I hadn't thought about it.
You need to start thinking about these things before the baby gets here.
What kind of mother do you want to be?
I plan to be a good mother.
A marsupial mom or a stroller mom?
Will you be breast-feeding or bottle-feeding?
And with all the sharp edges around here, this place is a death trap.
You need to back off.
I'm just trying to help.
Pointing out the things I do badly?
I'm not...
Yes, you are.
You need to try to let other people in a little.
Once you have that baby, you're not going to be able to control everything.
I just want to enjoy the fried chicken and be done with it.
I had to rethink the fried chicken.
You were the only one who wanted it.
We're having masculine greens and a lovely puttanesca with a Fiji Mum centrepiece.
A Fiji Mum stork centrepiece?
You can deal with one stork!
Two storks!
There's a stork on the invitation.
That is a duck.
It's smoking a boy cigar.
The duck's not for children.
The duck is fucked.
This shower is fucked!
You can't have one without baby stuff!
Or a shower without a mommy!
Fine!
Fine!
You'd better show up.
I'm not getting stuck with a bunch of lawyers who don't appreciate a beautiful puttanesca!
Watch out for the sharp edges!
Thanks for coming down.
I didn't have a choice.
You couldn't make it up the stairs.
There.
Do you feel better?
The back, yes.
The other stuff, no.
I'm going to be a terrible mother.
I am!
I have no maternal instincts.
I yelled at Charlotte.
She was just pointing out what needed to be child-proofed.
Oh, my God!
I need to be child-proofed.
You want to quit?
I'll quit the magazine, you quit the baby.
Two quitters.
We'll live happily ever after.
Can I tell you a secret?
You're not really pregnant?
I dropped my niece on her head.
I was baby-sitting when I was 13 and I got bored.
I was doing my homework, she slid down the couch.
Two stitches.
Get off my stoop!
How is this kid ever going to make it?
A Type-A mother who works 50 hours a week, no father figure.
He has a father figure.
Steve.
I meant you.
Really?
I do like those Yankees!
Second date.
Dinner and a movie.
I hate them.
Do you think it can be as simple as: "my father walked out, "therefore I'll always be messed up about men"?
My father came home every night.
I have no clue about men, either.
So it's a crap shoot.
Do I have to go to my own baby shower?
I RSVPed to a duck with a cigar.
You're going.
I've got to catch a cab.
Let me get you a forklift.
Are you ready?
Go.
Good girl.
Goody girl.
You too.
The next day, Miranda decided not to dock her own shower.
You showed up!
Bring on the ladies in hats and let's get this over with.
Where are all the storks?
You said you didn't want any.
I know, but...
What did you do?
It's your shower.
Can you get that?
I have to get the sandwiches, which have crusts.
Nothing cute.
No ridiculous baby stuff allowed.
Aren't you supposed to be on a lily pad, being worshipped?
What is that?
It's a four-tiered baby cake made entirely of diapers.
We ordered it online.
What do I do with it?
Didn't you want one?
No.
We're not taking it back.
We've been seen carrying it.
Definitely not "Vogue".
Charlotte said it was the perfect gift.
We should have got a massage.
One hour, two platters of chicken and 13 lawyers later, all talk had turned to babies.
Almost all.
I have 21 years of experience.
I could fuck her under the table.
In a three-way situation, it could come to that.
I have tricks she's never seen.
And those tricks aren't for kids.
She's just renting him.
I own.
Exactly.
Although I don't really own.
It's an illegal sublet thing?
It's a breast pump.
I didn't want you borrowing mine.
I have to pee.
Here.
You take Charles.
Have fun, Mom!
Keep it coming, ladies.
Keep the presents coming.
Yeah?
Nothing.
Something tells me this one's Tiffany.
That's from me.
That is elegant.
That's exactly like the rattle Trey gave me when we first...
You OK?
I'm fine.
I'm sorry, everybody.
Excuse me.
What did I do?
I need to be alone right now.
Except you've got 20 people in the other room.
I'm sorry I ruined your shower.
You didn't.
There wouldn't be a shower to ruin if it weren't for you.
I know this is hard.
I really appreciate you trying to be OK with me having this baby because I need you.
Let's face it.
You're the only person in my life...
...who knows how important it is to have a cake made of diapers.
There's lotion in there too.
And baby bottles.
And a receiving blanket.
See?
I would never have known that.
You would have figured it out.
Just like that, Miranda realised she might be a good mother figure as well.
Somebody better check on Mommy because little Fitz has wet himself.
And myself, I might add.
I happen to have four tiers of diapers.
Can we cut the cake?
I have a three-way to go to.
That's my earring.
That night at the three-way, Samantha made sure it happened her way.
Just so we're clear, tonight is about sex, not love.
There will be no kissing on the mouth.
Richard's lips are off-limits to anyone but me.
What if he kisses me?
Who's up for champagne?
I'm up for anything.
Easy, Sam.
There's more than enough of me to go around.
Tell her, Daddy.
The one thing Richard didn't want for his birthday was to feel older.
Get rid of her.
I'm on it.
It was time for the fledgling to leave the love nest.
Anything else you want for your birthday?
No, this is great.
Just you and me.
What about my three-way?
I have a bus boy arriving at midnight.
Seriously, let's try this.
Just you and me, nobody else.
OK.
By giving Richard what he wanted, Samantha finally got what she needed: monogamy.
The following night, with help from my favourite editor, I finished the impossible: my first "Vogue" piece.
Now my favourite part of the writing process: print.
Congratulations, Cookie.
500 beautifully written words, some even include the Carrie Bradshaw agenda, cleverly hidden.
It's a literary "Where's Waldo?"
When I finish a piece, I open a bottle of Ch�teau La Tour.
How do you celebrate?
By buying shoes and purses.
In that case, have you ever heard of the "Vogue" accessories closet?
Oh, my God!
It's too good!
I'm sorry, but it's...
It's too good!
Like a kid in a couture candy store.
This is too much!
How can this be?
Designers send us things and we photograph them.
Oh, my God!
Do you know what these are?
We're not supposed to be in here.
Manolo Blahnik Mary Janes!
I thought these were an urban shoe myth.
If you'll excuse me, I'll be pillaging the men's side.
Oh, my God!
These are authentic patent leather.
If they don't fit, so help me, I'm going to wear them anyway.
They almost fit.
Tell me what you think about these Versaces.
What do you think?
What are you doing?
I'm just showing you these briefs.
Well, don't.
Julian, pull your pants up.
Look at you in those Mary Janes!
Stop!
What happened to your wife, the dancer?
She's having an affair with her chiropractor.
I find you adorable.
You could be my father.
Would your father wear Versaces?
Pull your pants up!
All right, but as someone who cares about you, you have serious issues with men.
I do right now, yes!
An older man can help with those father issues, Cookie.
Don't Cookie me, Freud.
Pants up.
Show some respect.
This is "Vogue"!
It turns out Julian had an agenda as well.
Cleverly hidden, of course.
From then on, once a month when I went to "Vogue", I thought it best to work exclusively with Enid.
This shows improvement, but still reeks of you.
This magazine doesn't care what you say about shoes.
What do you know about shoes?
Enid, with all due respect, men I may not know, but shoes...
...shoes, I know.
I'm walking.
I'm walking, too.
It's tempting to wish for the perfect boss, the perfect parent or the perfect outfit, but maybe the best we can do is not quit, play the hand we've been given and accessorise the outfit we've got.